


From the Bottom of My Heart

by Natteravn



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natteravn/pseuds/Natteravn
Summary: After the chaotic last match of the Champions League group stage against Ajax, Thomas’s frustrated and angry and in desperate need of distraction. Manuel’s more than happy to provide it.





	From the Bottom of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meggiewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/gifts).



> A Christmas gift for Meggie, based on her many head canons for Neuller smut. She also drew _me_ the most beautiful [Christmas gift](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/post/181374327230/the-mistletoe-manuel-kevin-andr%C3%A9-for) based on my [babyverse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175375/chapters/37795757), so whether you’re familiar with the story or not, please check out the drawing and give Meggie some love for the wonderful job she’s done ♥︎
> 
> Just a tiny heads-up: the last goal for Ajax was credited one of their own players after the match, but in the heat of the moment, it was registered as an own goal by Niklas Süle. I only just found out when I had to double check some facts a couple of days ago, so let’s just say that the players weren’t informed about that change until the next day or so. If you look at the [situation](https://youtu.be/OE-sxqXVi1Y?t=85), it’s not too easy to tell who’s last on that ball.
> 
> \---
> 
> I’m on [tumblr](https://tyskerunge.tumblr.com) if you want to get in touch with me outside of AO3.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing written in my fanfictions is real – I have made absolutely everything up. These persons belong exclusively to themselves, and when I write about them, I see them as _characters based on the real persons_ , not the actual alive and breathing people. I make no profit from my writing, and I do not mean to offend or harass anyone with my works.

It doesn’t happen often that Thomas is more frustrated after a match with three conceded goals than Manuel is. Then again, it’s not every day he gets sent off with a red card at a crucial point in a match that’s already dramatic enough and they’re _losing_.

Technically, they don’t lose, but it still feels like a loss when two penalties and one own goal later, it says 3:3 on the screens and the referee blows the whistle.

When Manuel enters the locker room a good while later, after he’s done all the necessary interviews, Thomas is nowhere to be seen and his bag is gone. When Manuel enters the bus, he’s urged to find a seat before he’s had the chance to look for the forward. When they arrive at the hotel, Manuel only catches a brief glimpse of Thomas on the way out, his view and path blocked by frustrated and angry teammates – and Niklas, who looks like a downright mess.

Manuel shoulders his way past the defender, patting him on the back in the process. What’s done is done, it’s best not to dwell too much on that. That own goal cost them the win, sure, but the defender did what he could to prevent it and they still won their group by a comfortable margin.

And Manuel’s got much more important things on his mind right now. Thomas is always there for him when he concedes goals, regardless of how many and regardless whether they were his own fault; now it’s time for him to be a good boyfriend in return and be there when Thomas gets sent off for a card he didn’t deserve. In the situation, maybe, but as a person and player in general? Absolutely not.

Looking a few extra times over his shoulder, Manuel takes the stairs and heads in the opposite direction of his own room when he comes up to the right floor. Thomas was out of the bus and entered the hotel before Manuel, so he has to be in his room by now.

But when Manuel knocks, nobody opens. There’s not even a sound coming from the other side of the door, no feet shuffling, no water running, no switches being turned on or off. Normally, Manuel would be a lot more stubborn and not leave until he got some kind of response, but heavy steps are closing in and the lift is nearing the floor.

Manuel swears under his breath and heads in the direction he should’ve headed for in the first place. He can’t stand outside Thomas’s room like a lost puppy when the others will start flooding the corridor in a few seconds.

It’s weird, though, Manuel thinks as he shoves his hand into his pocket to fish out his key card. Thomas usually wouldn’t ignore him completely in a situation like this. He wouldn’t be on his best behaviour, that’s true, but he’s not the person to give anyone the silent treatment – he’s too vocal and outgoing for that. In fact, he’s not even the type to sulk on his own, so he’d _definitely_ let Manuel in –

Manuel digs into the pocket of his hoodie, frowning when all he’s met with is soft fabric, and moves his bag to the hand in question to check his other pocket. He did check that he had his key card before leaving the hotel, right? And he did put it in the zipped pockets of his hoodie?

“Damn it,” he swears under his breath when the other pocket turns out to be empty as well, switching hands again, just as the door to his room flies open and he’s pulled inside by arms much stronger than they seem. The door is slammed shut and his bag drops to the floor, and before he has the time to ask, he’s being pressed against the closed door, face first, one hand gripping his wrists and locking them behind his back, the other providing support against the door as someone leans in and grazes their teeth over Manuel’s earlobe.

“Not a word about the match,” Thomas husks, pressing his chest against Manuel’s back as he gently starts to nip at Manuel’s neck. Manuel lets out a soft moan, his eyes falling shut of their own accord. The hand on his wrists tightens its grip, just as the other grabs his chin, fingers pressing against the sharp ends of his jawbones. Manuel turns his head just enough to be able to glimpse Thomas’s eyes, his breath almost catching in his throat when he sees the hurt, the pain, the _fire_ in them.

Thomas frowns then, moving his palm down to Manuel’s throat, but not so far that he can’t press his thumb against Manuel’s full lower lip. Manuel lets out another soft moan and resists the urge to suck the thumb into his mouth.

“You let in another goal, didn’t you,” Thomas states, his eyes focused on his own thumb on Manuel’s lip. Manuel closes his eyes.

Nods.

“Who was it?”

Manuel doesn’t really feel like saying, doesn’t want to make a teammate the scapegoat of the night, but Thomas is staring at him so insistently, thumb rubbing back and forth across his lip, fingernails digging into his wrists. When Manuel doesn’t respond at once, Thomas closes the very small distance between them and presses against him, all the way from knees to shoulders, and Manuel moans against Thomas’s thumb as he feels a well-known, hard pressure against his backside.

“Who?” Thomas urges, voice low but eyes turning dark, causing blood rushing to Manuel’s cheeks, the tip of his ears, and down to his cock. Thomas’s good at not letting his protectiveness show, but tonight’s burned through so many of his defences that he’s not quite able to cover it up.

“Niklas,” Manuel finally admits, needing to concentrate in order not to start grinding back against Thomas’s crotch.

“ _Süle_?” Thomas all but growls.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Manuel is quick to add. “It was an unlucky situation. He did what he could. It wasn’t his fault.”

“But an _own goal_? As if that match wasn’t already bad enough?”

“Thomas, we didn’t–”

Manuel’s stopped effectively by Thomas’s thumb.

“My mistake for bringing it up. From now on, not another word about the match. I don’t want to think about it right now.”

The next thing Manuel knows, Thomas has flipped him around with his back to the door instead, hands gripping Manuel’s sides and a hungry mouth pressing against Manuel’s with a warm tongue demanding access. Manuel doesn’t hesitate to give in, parting his lips to meet Thomas’s tongue and flinging his arms around Thomas’s neck with a soft, yearning sigh. It’ll just have to be a nice surprise for Thomas that they didn’t lose, even though it feels like it after they miraculously managed to turn it.

And that’s Manuel’s last thought of football for a very long while.

Thomas’s teeth graze his lip, and he lets out a hungry, primal sound as he grabs Manuel’s wrists again, pinning them to the door. Manuel’s more than strong enough to fight it, but he never would; it turns him on to no end to have Thomas handling him like this, pushing him up against walls and doors, or down on beds, sofas, tables. Gripping him hard and keeping him in place, making it the perfect kind of hard to move – not impossible if Manuel has to, but also not possible unless he makes an effort.

Thomas’s mouth finds Manuel’s neck then, and another soft moan escapes his throat as he lets his head loll to the side, granting his boyfriend better access. Thomas hums in approval and presses closer, all but grinding against Manuel by now, and Manuel purrs in delight, Thomas’s grip on his wrists and the hot mouth on his neck making his heart pound and cock throb.

And the hard length all but digging into his thigh is only adding to the arousal. Fuck, how he loves that cock, whether it’s buried deep inside him, pulsing in his hand, or pushing past his lips and into his mouth while Thomas is gripping his hair. Especially that last one, oh _lord_ , it’s one of the best things he knows and it’s been far too long since he last had the chance to do it.

“I want to blow you,” Manuel breathes out, his hips jerking at the thought, his cock getting just a tiny hint of much needed friction. Thomas’s mouth vibrates against Manuel’s neck as he chuckles and it sends sparks straight to Manuel’s groin, settling nicely in his balls.

Then Thomas pulls away with a cheeky grin and reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Come on, then.”

Manuel can only watch as Thomas pushes his sweatpants down, keeping the boxers on, and takes place on the bed. With his eyes fixed on Manuel, the forward kicks the disturbing piece of clothing completely off and spreads his legs, arching an eyebrow and jerking his head in a _get over here_ gesture, bringing Manuel out of his trance. He kicks off his shoes in a hurry and the next thing he knows, he’s kneeling on the floor between Thomas’s legs, pushing the t-shirt up to press kisses to Thomas’s happy trail, from his navel down to the waistband of his boxers. With a soft whimper, his hands resting on Thomas’s thighs, Manuel starts nuzzling Thomas’s crotch.

He smells so good here. Even freshly showered, the scent of his crotch is so much sharper and stronger than the rest of him, tingling all of Manuel’s senses. He laps at Thomas’s balls through the soft fabric of the boxers, sweeping his tongue along the length of his hard, hot cock, following up with gentle, teasing kitten kisses. Thomas’s hand finds his hair and Manuel moans, the warm air and the vibration causing Thomas’s breath to hitch.

“Don’t be a tease,” Thomas pants, his voice tense, leaning back with one hand on the mattress and the other still clutching Manuel’s hair. “We haven’t got all night.”

Then he raises his hips just enough for Manuel to pull the boxers off, and Manuel’s too turned on and too eager, both to taste and to please, to wait any longer. Without further warning, he wraps his lips around the head of Thomas’s cock, slowly starting to suck.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Thomas sighs, sounding a lot more pleased now, grabbing Manuel’s hair again and cradling him. “God, you’re such a good boy, Manu. Such a good, _good_ boy.”

Manuel makes a sound of approval in the back of his throat, taking Thomas deeper and grabbing his own cock through his sweatpants with one hand.

Oral sex hadn’t been something he took pleasure in before. He’d done what he could to stay clear of it, both giving and receiving, fearing the former in particular. But that was long ago, before he realised he didn’t even like girls, when sex itself felt more or less like a duty, not pleasure and enjoyment. Now, being in a stable, healthy relationship with a man he loves, he simply can’t get enough of it. He loves waking up Thomas by going down on him, loves going down on him as a part of the foreplay, loves coming up with creative excuses to do it, loves the scent, the taste, the heavy weight on his tongue. Receiving is still not on top of his wish list, even though it’s moved up a few places since coming to terms with his sexuality and starting to take pleasure in sex, but giving? _God_ , yes.

“Shit, Manu, your mouth,” Thomas pants, bucking up into him and gripping his hair a little harder. “Such a pretty, pretty mouth, wrapped around my cock like that.”

The hand not buried in Manuel’s hair reaches for his chin, the thumb pressing down on his now wet lower lip. Manuel glances up, meeting Thomas’s eyes and noting with a pleased grin that Thomas stops breathing for a second, before his mouth falls open and his breath becomes a lot heavier. Then, as Manuel starts taking him deeper, Thomas falls back on the bed with a loud moan and bucks his hips harder.

Oh, _fuck_.

“Ah, fuck,” Thomas groans, almost out of breath. “Christ, Manu, you’re so hungry for it, aren’t you? So eager to please when you’re on your knees for me like this? Turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Manuel makes another pleased sound – _fuck yes, it does_ – and Thomas lets out another breathless _fuck_ , his voice slightly more high-pitched than it was only a moment ago.

“Yeah, I can tell. Such a natural when you’ve got my cock between those gorgeous lips of yours. The whole world knows you’re a talent between the goal posts, bet you can blow a few minds the way you can handle a ball, but if they only _knew_ how you can blow a bloke’s mind with your mouth alone…”

Manuel whimpers at the praise, tightening the grip on his own cock and sucking harder –

“Oh yes, that’s it. That’s – shit, _Manu_ –”

– hollowing his cheeks, letting his tongue run over the head and catch the first drops of precome. He swallows, the taste hitting his senses and going straight to his cock, and he goes all the way down, burying his nose in Thomas’s coarse pubic hair, whimpering in the back of his throat. Thomas’s hips jerk uncontrollably, his grip on Manuel’s hair tightens, and Manuel really has to concentrate to breathe through his nose and not let the gagging reflex get the better of him.

“Oh, Manu, fuck, _fuck_ –”

And Manuel wants to speed up, take it to the next level which he knows for sure will bring Thomas to the breaking point, but before he can get so far, he’s pulled up and off and a pair of lips are pressing almost desperately against his own.

Thomas groans into his mouth as he fights back the need to come, gripping Manuel’s cheeks and kissing him so hard that it makes it almost impossible to breathe.

Finally, Thomas pulls away, his eyes hooded and glassy, cheeks flushed, mouth spreading in a satisfied grin. A thumb runs along Manuel’s lips, probably sore and wet and bright red by now, before once again pressing against the lower one. This time, Manuel doesn’t even hesitate to suck it into his mouth, closing his eyes and sighing in pleasure.

“God, look at you,” Thomas pants, running his other hand through Manuel’s hair – which must be a lot more tousled now than when he arrived –, before grabbing his own cock. “Such a beautiful, hot mess.”

Manuel smiles carefully around the thumb, nudging it with his tongue. Thomas’s eyes go dark and he pushes his thumb further in, making Manuel suck harder.

“Could’ve gone on all night like that, couldn’t you,” Thomas husks, the cheeky grin back on his face. “I’m sorry I had to stop you so soon. I didn’t want to be over already.”

Manuel lets the thumb slip from his mouth, grinning up at Thomas, his tongue darting out for a brief moment. “Not able to hold back much longer?”

“When you’ve got a mouth like this?” Thomas says, keeping his thumb pressed down on Manuel’s lower lip. “Never.”

“As long as you’ll let me blow you again later.”

Thomas’s grin widens a tad bit, his eyes still focused on Manuel’s mouth.

“In the morning, perhaps. I’ll be too worn out once I’m done with you tonight.”

Then the forward gets to his feet, pulling Manuel along with him and pressing close – probably for a kiss, but when their groins brush through the smooth fabric of Manuel’s sweatpants –

“Fuck, you’re about to burst, aren’t you,” Thomas says, breathless, reaching into Manuel’s sweatpants and taking hold of him. He grins just as Manuel moans, mouth falling open and eyes falling shut, then he leans in to whisper in Manuel’s ear. “You know how much I love it when you blow me, but do you know what the best part is?”

Manuel sucks his lip into his mouth and shakes his head.

“Seeing how much it turns you on.”

Manuel’s breath catches in his throat just as Thomas grabs him by the neck, forcing their lips together, swallowing Manuel’s moan. A few intense, hot kisses, then Thomas pulls away and pants,

“Come, let’s get you out of these clothes already.”

With that, he reaches for Manuel’s hoodie and starts pulling, letting out a pleased sound as Manuel raises his arms. The t-shirt soon follows, and Manuel starts tugging at his sweatpants just as Thomas grabs his own shirt and flings it across the room.

And then Thomas’s hands are back on Manuel’s neck, bringing him down for another round of kisses while Manuel tries to kick his trousers and socks off without losing his balance. He almost stumbles when stepping out of the pile, but Thomas’s hands are there on his waist to steady him, the forward suppressing an amused chuckle against Manuel’s mouth. Manuel just throws his arms around his boyfriend and kisses him harder, his hungry sounds turning into whimpers when Thomas grabs his backside, squeezing his buttocks through his boxers.

“God, this ass of yours,” Thomas says, more to himself than to Manuel, and Manuel shivers. Not just because of the praise, even though that alone is enough to make him melt in Thomas’s arms, but because of the memory the words waken.

Since being with another man was a first for both of them, they’d spent quite a while in the making out phase when they first got together, and they were still in it when Manuel started thinking about what having sex was going to be like. How it was going to feel like with a man as opposed to a woman, what the main difference would be, whether it’d be considerably better – he’d pushed away the fears of it being worse – or just different. Roles and positions hadn’t been something they’d talked about, and Manuel had just assumed he’d be on top. According to every stereotype ever he should, being not only older, but also bigger and stronger. Besides, being on top wouldn’t be too different from being with a woman. It made him less nervous if he thought of sex being like he knew it, nothing new and alien. Not a bad word about the blokes who took pleasure in being on the receiving end, but how could that possibly be enjoyable?

But that was until Thomas had grabbed his ass with both hands during a very heated make out session and all but growled those exact same words, “God, this ass of yours”, pulling at Manuel’s lower lip with his teeth as he did so. Manuel had only been wearing his boxers at that point, and the warmth of Thomas’s hands had radiated through the thin layer of fabric, the grip tight and the fabric soft enough to feel the nails almost dig into his skin.

They hadn’t gone further that night, but Christ, all Manuel had wanted to do when Thomas’s words reached his ears, was shove his hand into his boxers, grab his cock and jerk off to Thomas purring praises in his ear and those very nice hands touching his ass.

He’d been alone the night after, hot and bothered and just aching to get to the sex stage already. Thomas’s rumbling voice had still been ringing in his ears, the praise memorised together with how nice those hands of his had felt. And if that little touch was enough…

It had been the night before an important match, but Manuel hadn’t been able to hold back, pushing his boxers down his legs and kicking them off, grabbing his cock with his right hand and slowly starting to stroke, running the left up and down the inside of his thigh, closer and closer to the point of connection. He’d wanted to take his time, give his body time to adjust and hopefully enjoy the first time to the full, but once he’d gotten a finger between his buttocks, gently circling and pressing against his rim, it had washed over him like a wave.

He’d bucked into his hand, an image flashing before his eyes of lying on his back, legs spread, with Thomas pressed against him, leaning over him, panting and sweating with his lips red and sore from the kisses and his eyes sparkling.

He hadn’t been able to stop after that. Just a tiny hint of a touch had been enough to bring him over the edge the first time, and he wanted more. Soon, he’d worked himself up to taking at least a few fingers, each time imagining himself and Thomas in a position which would allow Thomas to be inside him, giving it to him so much better than his own fingers ever could.

It hadn’t taken long before Manuel had become far from nervous about the sex itself, but instead dead scared of telling Thomas how he wanted it, and how badly. The idea of topping hadn’t been on his mind for so long that he couldn’t remember if he’d ever fantasised about it, and he was thirsting for bottoming so badly that having to be on top would feel like an anticlimax. Not only was it uncomfortable to tell Thomas that he – who according all stereotypes would be the top in their relationship – didn’t want it that way, it was also something which meant so much to him that the alternative wasn’t much of an option.

The risk of it going wrong had, in other words, been rather high, and Manuel hadn’t been prepared to take it.

But Thomas, Thomas had just – sensed, somehow, that this was on Manuel’s mind. Or that there was _something_ on Manuel’s mind. They’d been chilling on the sofa, curled up together watching some show on a lazy Sunday morning after a late Saturday win, when Thomas had asked what Manuel imagined their sex life would be like once they got to it.

“Well, you’re great at everything else you do, so I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be great at this, too.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Thomas had snickered with his lips against Manuel’s temple. “But you must’ve thought about it, though. How it’s going to be.”

Manuel had shrugged one shoulder.

“Come on, Manu. I know you get just as turned on as I do when we make out. It must’ve crossed your mind at some point.”

“Is this your way of saying that you want to, like, right now?” Manuel had asked back, feeling his skin starting to prickle at the thought, both with nervousness and excitement.

“Not necessarily. I just think it’d be good for us to clarify a few things in advance, so that we don’t screw up our first time because we’re not on the same page about the technicalities.”

“I guess,” was all Manuel had been able to respond, eyes fixed on the TV screen, his heart suddenly pounding so hard against his ribcage that it was a wonder Thomas didn’t feel it too.

“I mean,” Thomas had begun, leaning in to whisper in Manuel’s ear, “you’re a bloke, I’m a bloke, and neither of us has had sex with another bloke before. Our roles aren’t automatically given.”

“Well, according to the stereotype…”

“Oh, fuck the stereotype,” Thomas had cut him off, grabbing his cheeks and forcing their eyes to meet. “Tell me how you want it, Manuel.”

A furious blush had spread across Manuel’s cheeks in record time, and he’d ducked his head, unable to look Thomas in the eye when talking about more intimate topics. “Well, I’ve – kinda been thinking, and…” he’d stuttered, pausing to gnaw at his lip. “I sort of, maybe, don’t want to be on top?”

“No?”

He hadn’t seen the smile on Thomas’s face, but he’d heard it in his voice.

“I mean – unless you mind?”

“Oh God, no, why would I?”

“I don’t know, because it would make more sense for me to be on top?”

“Make sense for who?”

“Me? You? _Us_? Because I’m older, bigger, stronger…”

Thomas had snickered again – a gentle, warm, soothing sound. “Like I just told you, there’s no need to let the stereotypes define our roles.”

“Don’t come here and tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I haven’t, really,” Thomas had said, and Manuel had felt him shrug. “All I’ve thought about is how much it’d turn me on to have your big, strong, beautiful naked body spread out underneath me or leaning over me. I don’t have too strong an opinion on the roles, as long as you’re happy with yours.”

“For real?”

A confirming hum.

“So you’re not... opposed the idea?”

Thomas had just grinned, snaking a hand around Manuel’s body to run it over one of his buttocks, and that alone had been enough to make Manuel shiver. “With an ass like this?” Thomas had asked as he leaned in close to press his lips to Manuel’s, grabbing the buttock hard. ”Why on earth would I be?”

Then he’d grabbed Manuel’s backside with both hands and dug in, pulling Manuel on top and parted his lips to meet Manuel’s tongue. They’d completely forgotten about the show then, and even though they hadn’t gone further than making out in that moment, Manuel had given in to another one of his urges and blown Thomas for the first time that evening, loving it so much that he’d come in his boxers while he was at it, not pulling away when Thomas had come, and Thomas had grabbed his cheeks without caring about the taste and kissed Manuel so hard that his head had started spinning.

It’s spinning now, too, with Thomas kissing him so intensely and skilled, rough hands slipping underneath the fabric of his underwear, slowly pushing the last piece of disturbing clothing off. _Too_ slowly. Manuel’s about to just push Thomas off and take care of it himself when suddenly, without warning, he finds himself on the bed, with Thomas crawling on top of him and pinning him to it.

Oh god, yes.

Soon, the boxers are out of the way and Thomas is peppering Manuel’s chest with kisses, his tongue flicking out when he reaches Manuel’s nipples, one hand finding its way between Manuel’s legs and spreading his cheeks to press a finger to his entrance.

“ _Thomas_ ,” Manuel moans and arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Soon.”

“Please–”

“Yes.”

“I need it.”

“I know.”

“Need you.”

The response comes in form of a hard, rough kiss, silencing Manuel’s needy whimpers.

“I know,” Thomas repeats, his voice a bit more urgent now. “Lube’s in your bag?”

“Yeah.” Christ, Manuel sounds like he’s just spent the whole day playing a losing game, screaming his lungs out on the pitch and making more than just one sprint over to the other side in a desperate need to help the team.

“On your stomach,” Thomas commands, then he moves off and goes to search through Manuel’s bag. Manuel does as he’s told, making himself comfortable on the big bed, automatically spreading his legs when he feels the mattress dip.

“Yes, that’s my good boy,” Thomas says, sounding quite out of breath as well as he lets his hands run over Manuel’s ass again, down to his thighs, tracing the insides of them on the way back up, making Manuel shiver. If they’d had more time and he hadn’t be so desperate for it already, he would’ve begged Thomas to pay some more attention to the inside of his thighs first, preferably leaving a stubble burn all the way up to his crotch. It made training and playing the following day a less than pleasant experience, but oh, it was so worth it.

“Looking so fucking gorgeous spread out in front of me like this, Manu,” Thomas sighs, the unmistakable admiration in his voice making Manuel feel almost high. “If you only knew how much…”

Wet lips press against the swell of Manuel’s ass and he moans into the mattress, grinding down to get some much needed friction, spreading his legs wider. Thomas grins against his skin, well aware of the effect he’s having, before he starts to suck – gently at first, then rougher, adding his teeth.

“No, Thomas, the others–”

“They have no business staring at your ass in the first place,” Thomas mumbles against his skin, the slight possessive tone causing goosebumps to spread on Manuel’s arms. Thomas follows up with gentle kisses to both of Manuel’s buttocks, before he finds another soft spot to latch on to, passing Manuel another bruise.

Manuel presses his forehead to the mattress and moans again. It comes out much louder than he expected it to and he cuts himself off quickly by sucking his lip into his mouth.

Thomas just snickers.

“You know I always prefer to hear you.”

“We’re in a hotel with the team,” Manuel argues, slightly out of breath.

“Irrelevant.”

Thomas passes him one last bite to the ass just as the clack of the tube reaches Manuel’s ears, and a moment later, he feels the familiar press of a sticky finger against his rim, circling for a moment before gently pushing in, without further teasing. Manuel curls his hands into the sheets and bites down on his already sore lip, trying despite Thomas’s words to suppress the deep moan building up down in his throat.

_About fucking time._

One finger is no challenge and Manuel takes it easily, pushing back, hungry and eager for more. Thomas _knows_ that Manuel’s perfectly capable of taking him as long as there’s lube involved; with the excerption of the first few times they slept together and an occasional rare moment, there’s never been much need for fingers to prepare him. Thomas’s just deliberately playing with him because he _can_. It’s not that Manuel doesn’t enjoy it, lord knows that he does, but it’s not a requirement before penetrative sex. It’s a nice supplement if he’s on his own for a longer period of time, if Thomas goes down on him, or if they have the time and patience for quite a lot of foreplay, but it can in no way be compared to the real deal.

“Thomas, there’s no need,” Manuel tries to object, but Thomas chuckles.

“Patience,” is all he says, and Manuel wants to snap at him for being such a tease. “You wouldn’t want to overstrain yourself just before Christmas, would you?”

“I won’t,” Manuel growls into the mattress. “You know I can take it.”

“It’s been such an exhausting day, though,” Thomas says, his voice overly sympathetic all of a sudden, almost like a purr. He licks up Manuel’s spine, then sighs against the nape of Manuel’s neck. “We just lost the match. We missed the chance to finish first in our group. I was given a direct red card, you conceded an own goal…”

The finger only just brushes Manuel’s prostate, making Manuel keen because it’s simply not _enough_. He usually enjoys it when Thomas is teasing him a little, but his patience is wearing thin, having been on edge all day and all evening because of the match, and the frustrating match result is still nagging underneath the surface, a fire which hasn’t died completely yet.

“Exactly,” Manuel bites out. “It’s been an absolute shit day and gentle and soft and careful is the last thing I need right now. I need to _feel_ it.”

Thomas’s lips spread into a grin against Manuel’s neck, then the forward presses a kiss between Manuel’s shoulder blades and finally withdraws his finger. Manuel hears the clack of the tube again and then he’s pulled to his knees – _yes_ , that’s more like it, show me what you’ve got –, rough hands gripping his hips hard enough to leave lovely red marks, and something blunt, much bigger than fingers, presses against his ass.

_Yes. Please. Give me._

“Thomas, come on–”

“Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock, Manu,” Thomas says, out of breath, a hint of a moan at the end. The head of his cock rubs slowly up and down over Manuel’s entrance, spreading the lube, but still just teasing, playing with him, without pressing inside and giving him what he so desperately needs, so badly it’s starting to hurt. “So, _so_ good…”

“Fuck, Thomas, I swear to God,” Manuel curses under his breath, biting his lip almost bloody to refrain from snapping completely. But if Thomas doesn’t get on with it soon… “You told _me_ not to be a tease, now don’t be a dick and go against your own advice.”

A dark chuckle is the only response he gets, and when Thomas still doesn’t make a move to give in, just continues to tease by rubbing against Manuel’s ass, pretending to get ready but then pulling away at the last second, Manuel can’t take it anymore. He pushes himself up enough to turn his head and grab Thomas by the neck, pulls him so close that their noses almost touch, and sneers, “You. In me. _Now_.” The last word ends with a growl, Thomas’s eyes go dark and the next thing Manuel knows, he’s being pushed back down with a rough hand between his shoulder blades.

A hand which then runs down along his spine to the small of his back, settling there with just the right pressure, the other hand grabbing Manuel’s hip, fingers digging in, and then finally, _finally_ –

Manuel’s forearms give in and he has to support himself on his elbows, his vision going blurry, the breath being punched out of his lungs when Thomas pushes inside, really going for it, making Manuel take all of him at once, and fuck, that’s it, that’s exactly how he wanted it. A bit late, maybe, but that only adds to the pleasure now that they’ve finally come this far.

Thomas jerks his hips, and Manuel’s eyes almost roll back in his skull, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp – _Christ_ , how could he ever think that being on the receiving end wouldn’t be his cup of tea. It’s unthinkable, now that he knows what it’s like – the feeling of being filled up, claimed, marked, taken – and how much it gets to him, satisfying a primal need in him which he didn’t know he possessed until he fell for Thomas. He hasn’t been able to say no since the first time, and if he ever does, there must be something seriously wrong with him. Fuck, as if he’d _ever_ say no to this.

Thomas groans then, something undefinable which Manuel doesn’t quite catch, pressing his forehead between Manuel’s shoulder blades, rubbing against him like a kitten, his heavy, warm breath hitting Manuel’s skin and his hand drawing circles on Manuel’s lower back. “Look at you, taking it like a champ. I can’t even begin to explain what it does to me, watching, _feeling_ you take me like this, all in one go with hardly any preparation.”

Manuel’s breath hitches, he feels the sounds building up, and he musters just enough strength to reach for the pillow, biting down on the thick fabric just in time to muffle his loud noises. Heavy panting is the only other thing he hears, along with the soft noises of Thomas slowly thrusting into him.

“Harder,” he whimpers into the pillow, not quite sure if Thomas can hear him, but he can’t risk being louder. Not when they’re surrounded by teammates on all fronts, and who knows who might be staying above or below them.

“Come again?” Thomas asks, sounding majorly out of breath by now, hardly any hint of teasing left in his voice.

“ _Harder_ ,” Manuel repeats, voice strained, desperate. For a brief moment, he’s worried that Thomas is only going to chuckle at his impatience again, bite his neck as punishment, just wriggle his hips a little to give Manuel a taste, and then continue in the same slow, maddening pace.

But no, Thomas just draws a deep breath, his grip on Manuel’s hip tightening.

“Fuck, Manu, you–” Thomas stutters, but his voice is low, rough and honest, lacking most of its strength, the teasing, amused tone from earlier gone completely now. “You feel so fucking good. It’s too much, I can’t – if I go much harder…”

“Thomas–” It comes out as barely a whimper, begging, pleading, and Thomas grabs Manuel’s jaw with a low rumble, forcing their lips together in a sloppy, messy kiss, which they have to break far too soon to even be able to breathe.

“I can’t hold back much longer. You’re clenching too hard–”

“Then don’t,” Manuel cuts him off, reaching behind himself to grab Thomas’s hip and at the same time push his ass back to meet Thomas’s thrusts. Thomas groans, low in his throat, muffling it against Manuel’s shoulder.

“Manu, shit, _shit_ –”

“I need it so bad, Thomas, _please_. I don’t care how little it takes, just–”

“I want to hear you, though. I know you want to, with all these beautiful little noises you’re making–”

“I can’t–”

“You can.”

“The others–”

“I don’t care. They all know anyway, there’s no reason for you to keep it all in.”

Fuck it.

Manuel pushes the pillow out of the way, gasping desperately for air, knowing he’s going to need it when Thomas –

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” he moans out loud when Thomas starts moving, without warning, so much harder, rougher, better than before. Manuel curls his hands deeper into the sheets, his fingernails almost leaving marks on his palms despite the smooth fabric between them, biting his lip again by sheer reflex until he remembers that no, he doesn’t have to. Thomas hits his prostate dead on and Manuel suddenly can’t even recall _why_ , just throws his head back with a hoarse moan, whimpering and gasping for breath because it’s impossible to catch it properly with Thomas slamming into him like that.

He wants to beg but he can’t find the words, wants to give back as good as he’s getting but he’s unable to move, unable to focus on anything but the cock in his ass and Thomas’s voice in his ear, moaning praises Manuel can’t make sense of other than the proud, pleased, satisfied tone, so when Thomas finally, _finally_ shows him some mercy and touches his cock, teeth scraping along the side of his neck, Manuel couldn’t have held back for a second longer, even if he wanted to. His arms give in completely, his ass clenching almost painfully on Thomas’s cock, and he barely perceives what must be Thomas following him over the edge before his vision goes dark, overwhelmed by the rush, the strain, the intensity of his orgasm and the endorphins it releases.

The next few moments pass by in a blur. Soft lips against his own, careful and tender, over and over between heavy breaths and exhausted whimpers. A wet cloth between his legs, strong arms around his upper body, gangly legs tangling with his own strong ones. A familiar scent reaching his senses, making him feel calm and comfortable. Wanted.

Warmth.

Weariness.

When he finally comes to properly, he’s still naked, curled up to Thomas underneath the duvet with his head on Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas is petting his hair with one hand, the other stroking up and down Manuel’s side in a slow, soothing manner.

“Mmh, Thomas.”

The response comes in form of a kiss pressed to his forehead.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” Manuel tries to say as he suppresses a yawn, voice still drowsy, body still heavy.

“Good,” Thomas says, and smiles against Manuel’s forehead. “I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to move before the alarm goes off in the morning. I trust you’ll let me spend the night?”

“Such a silly question,” Manuel mumbles against Thomas’s shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief, and Thomas smiles again, nudging one of Manuel’s feet with his own. The hand in Manuel’s hair doesn’t stop, neither does the one on his side, and it would be so nice, so easy to fall asleep like this, right now, without moving an inch.

But Thomas still doesn’t know about the match.

“Hey, Thomas?”

“Mmhmm…”

“We didn’t lose the match.”

Total silence for a few seconds, then,

“We _what_?”

“We didn’t lose.”

And now Thomas stirs, pushing himself up a bit, staring at Manuel with his eyebrows furrowed.

“How did we _not_? You let in another goal!”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

“And the boys were completely down on the bus after! No one spoke of it, there was anger and frustration written all over their faces. Why would they act like that if we came back stronger?”

Manuel just shrugs. “Most of the drama, believe it or not, happened _after_ you were sent off. Ajax got a penalty not long after you were, but we got one as well just a few minutes later. Then Kingsley scored just before full time and we all thought we had it, until Niklas was unlucky and scored that own goal just before the referee blew the whistle after I can’t even remember how much additional time. It was so much of an anticlimax that it felt like a loss.”

Total silence again as Thomas tries to process the information.

“So we tied.”

“Yes.”

Thomas frowns for a second. “But still won our group.”

“By a rather comfortable margin, even.”

“… wow.”

“Yeah. And if Gladbach gives up at least a point or two before the Christmas break and we don’t, we’ll climb at least one place up on the table.”

“Well, they’re not going to win against BVB.”

“And we won’t let any of the remaining _Hinrunde_ points slip from our grasp.”

“We sure as hell won’t.” Now Thomas is not longer able to hold back his joy, grinning broadly against Manuel’s forehead. “And then we can enjoy our Christmas break with good conscience after all, despite everything.”

“Quite right.”

To be perfectly honest, Manuel still isn’t very pleased with the outcome of tonight’s match, but seeing it from Thomas’s perspective – being sent off and be a hundred percent convinced that they’ve lost, only to learn that they didn’t… It must be a nice surprise in and of itself, Manuel can admit as much.

“You haven’t changed your mind about spending Christmas with my family, right?” Thomas asks then, the hand petting Manuel’s hair stilling for a moment.

“Of course not. Where else would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Gelsenkirchen–” Thomas’s hand lazily continues to pet him.

“Thomas.”

“– Mallorca, Dubai, Thailand…”

“ _Thomas_. It was a rhetorical question.”

“I know,” Thomas says with a wink. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Manuel just shakes his head with a fond smile and snuggles closer, letting out a content sigh as he closes his eyes and relaxes completely with his head on Thomas’s chest.

_So am I._


End file.
